The Late Bloomer's Baby

That damn sexy, passionate mouth.

When her stomach flipped, Callie had the panicky thought that her raging feelings didn’t stem from fear alone. Ethan was achingly handsome, and she’d missed him.

Desire assaulted her so hard she almost forgot she had a secret to protect. She wanted nothing more than to cross the room to touch Ethan, just to feel the crackle and comfort of a sensuality she’d never experienced with anyone else.

It had been too long since she’d seen her husband.

Paradoxically, it hadn’t been nearly long enough.

Chapter Two

Ignoring her body’s idiotic fight-or-flight response, Callie stepped over the baby gate to enter Josie’s living room. “Hello,” she said coolly, as if Ethan was an acquaintance she hadn’t seen in a while. She sat on the sofa, propped the bottle against the cushion next to her and crossed her legs, as if she had nowhere to go and nothing to lose.

Ethan shook his head. “Is Josie dating a man with kids, or are you running a child care center?”

The presence of Roger’s kids was fortunate. Callie wouldn’t have to strain her temporarily useless brain cells. Obviously, Ethan had assumed that Luke belonged with the other two children.

She studied the two redheaded kids, then Luke. The baby’s hair was almost black. Except for the curls at his neck that Callie adored too much to snip off just yet, it was thick and straight—just like Ethan’s.

Her lively boy shrieked and threw the ball straight at Angie’s face, bonking the little girl on the nose. A mischievous little brother would do such a thing, wouldn’t he? Callie could use the situation to her advantage.

“Isabel’s got the boyfriend with kids, not Josie,” she mumbled, hoping the children wouldn’t notice her error of omission. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the kids, then caught the ball as it rocketed toward the baby’s face. He bounced it on his palm a couple of times, then tossed it to Callie.

“No face shots,” she said as she returned the ball to Angie. “The little guy doesn’t have good motor control yet. He didn’t mean to hit you.”

Callie looked at Ethan and wished she had the ball back. She wanted to bonk his nose and shock that warm expression from his eyes.

“I came to check on Isabel, but no one was home when I went by her house a few minutes ago,” Ethan said.

“She just left to head out there. You must have passed her on the road.”

“I’ll give her a few minutes and try again.” He claimed the chair by the door, which happened to be the one nearest his son—who threw back his head and cackled exactly the way Ethan did when he was tickled.

Someone was going to notice the resemblance.

Callie swooped across the room and grabbed Luke, then returned to sit on the sofa and offer him the bottle of water.

Everyone in the room stared at her.

“It’s time for his nap,” she announced, ignoring her baby’s struggle to escape her arms.

Of course, Ethan would check on her sister. In her heart of hearts, Callie had expected him to, hadn’t she? As many times as she’d told herself not to worry, that he might not come, she wasn’t surprised. Ethan didn’t have ties to Augusta anymore, but he’d always had a compulsion to rescue anyone in distress. That was what had attracted him to police work.

To her, as well. She was sure of it now.

The strength of her reaction to him had startled her, though, as had her impulse to smile and ask if he found their son amazing.

God. She could never do that. Ethan had made his choice. He’d returned to Kansas without her. In doing so, he’d forced her to abandon one dream and focus on another.

As Luke’s fussy whimper escalated to a lusty bawl, she stood and carried him toward the kitchen.

Ethan spoke over the noise. “I’ve been listening to flood reports all week. I was off duty the night the water broke through the levee, but my patrol buddies made a few passes and told me about it.”

It sounded as if he was following her. Callie stepped over the baby gate and turned around.

He was standing just on the other side. The flimsy plastic slats separating her husband from his fussing child couldn’t possibly be tall or thick enough. Callie bounced Luke, trying to soothe him and think at the same time.

She didn’t want Ethan’s attention on the baby, so she put Luke down and hoped he’d crawl in the other direction.

The ornery little guy sat peering up at his daddy, then hiccupped a few times as his cries subsided.

Ethan chuckled. “I guess the little tyke isn’t sleepy after all,” he said, and lowered his voice. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of babysitting. It just takes hands-on experience.”

Callie ignored the comment. “You’re still in west Wichita, then?”

“I would have told you if I’d moved.” He inched forward, until they were separated by only the slats and about a foot of space. But at least he focused on her instead of Luke. “I needed time to put our problems into perspective, but I wouldn’t lose track of you.”

She wondered if that were true, but she couldn’t pursue the subject with Luke at her feet and Roger’s big-eared, big-mouthed children nearby.

Ethan’s ignorance about Luke was crucial.

It would save her son the heartache of growing up with warring parents or living a divided life.

It would save her from having to battle her husband on any front.

And it would save them all from Ethan’s unfortunate tendency to do the heroic thing at any cost.

During their courtship, she and Ethan had spent a lot of time discussing her childhood. Callie’s father had left when her mother was pregnant with Josie. Despite a fierce independence, Ella Blume had struggled to raise three daughters alone. She’d always insisted that the girls’ father was worthless, and that she’d never known an honorable man.

Ethan had wanted to prove Ella wrong, and Callie and Ethan had each wanted to prove they could make their marriage work.

Maybe her mother had been right about some things. Maybe men weren’t built for forever. Maybe they did mistake lust for love.

Maybe Ethan had felt only chemistry, a challenge to prove himself and sympathy for a shy young woman who’d had to be taught just about everything.

Callie didn’t want to be his project anymore. She certainly didn’t want to be the woman he returned to because of a child. She’d loved him deeply. She’d probably always love him—from a distance.

At this moment, Callie wanted to convince Ethan to abandon his thoughts of seeing Isabel, and leave. But how?

She stalled for time by checking Luke’s diaper, and when she glanced up she almost groaned at the gleam in Ethan’s eye. He was watching her in that way. She had to do something, fast.

She’d pick a fight, but keep it low-key. She didn’t want to upset Luke again or draw the older kids’ attention away from the television—which, she realized in that instant, was silent.

Callie glanced toward the living room. Roger’s kids were standing just beyond the sofa, gawking at her and Ethan. Had the hushed adult conversation caught their attention, or were the children expecting a fight? Whichever it was, apparently she and Ethan were more interesting than the latest hit Japanese cartoon.

Smiling at Angie, Callie said, “Josie has Popsicle treats. Want one?” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the freezer and pulled out two red ones—she had neither the energy nor the wits to referee a brawl right now—then she hurdled the gate and strode past Ethan to hand them to the kids. “Eat in here,” she commanded. “And watch anything you want on TV.”